


scarlet strings ETC.

by bloodscrolls



Category: TWICE (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-06-12 21:42:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15349356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodscrolls/pseuds/bloodscrolls
Summary: originally posted on AFF. created this because i made an ao3 account for a fic fest & just wanted to try out reposting some of my works here too.short works involving the most BTS ship ever - michaeng





	1. White

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dahyun thinks Chaeyoung is too white like paper Chaeyoung doesn't understand until Mina comes along

She doesn’t quite understand when her friends tell her about it: the butterflies in your stomach, the dizzying feeling of falling, the tingling sensation of warmth… She only knows the warm light that filters in through the shades of her windows, caressing her face as she awakes to a brand new day. She only knows the raw hurt that comes from falling off her bicycle as she cycles along the Han river, a scratch red against the pale skin of her knee and she only knows the butterflies drawn on her sketchbook, an array of images conjured from her imagination and boredom: a cubistic impression of the world around her, inspired by her favourite artist. Chaeyoung is white like the canvas in her sketchbook, waiting to be painted on (or waiting to paint herself).

“You’re so white like paper,” Dahyun states, but Chaeyoung doesn’t understand when her friend is clearly the one with fairer skin with “dubu” as her nickname. There is a strange stagnant sense of guilessness as she watches Sana cling to Dahyun, peppering kisses on her face and head and Dahyun trying to mask her abashment with a façade of indifference, but Chaeyoung looks down and sees Dahyun subtly playing with Sana’s fingers, almost as if telling her to not stop, but she still doesn’t understand the contradiction in the scene playing out in front of her, whatever feeling and emotion it is that entails such confusing results. Even as Dahyun’s statement plays on in her head, she finds herself more in the dark as she watches on, bewildered, and wonders quite aimlessly what it is all about.

She coincidentally, unfortunately, meets a couple in the elevator to Jeongyeon’s apartment, who can’t seem to keep their hands off each other. Her face is white as sheet, a hint of red surfacing on her cheeks as she can’t help but stare on, knowing but not really knowing what is going on. She exits and recounts it to Jeongyeon who laughs it off, tells her that deep inside Chaeyoung “really likes it” but Chaeyoung’s mind is in that same flatline state as before, completely unable to understand the waves hide behind a simple act of kissing and being close to someone else. Jeongyeon ruffles her hair and tells her one day she’ll understand, and Chaeyoung hopes she does because she doesn’t like the feeling of being left out when everyone around her seems to get it, and all she sees are these supposed displays of affection that she is unable to identify with, the white in her mind a strong disinfectant to the shades of red that want to paint but are unable to.

\--- 

Chaeyoung first meets her in university, while she is waiting for Dahyun to meet her after her class. She sketches mindlessly, the noises of the cafeteria a dull hum in her head. She catches a blur of white from the peripheries of her vision, a slight breeze before she turns to see a stranger trying to subtly (not really) get closer to her side, her neck cocked over slightly as if to see what Chaeyoung was sketching before. Chaeyoung gives her a blatant up-down scan. Decked in a white turtleneck, black skinny jeans and a worn out pair of black Chuck Taylor’s, Chaeyoung is surprised at the safe and clichéd but still similar style this stranger has with her. Chaeyoung is in a white cropped top, black jeans and black Supergas so this uncanny resemblance in colour coordination creeps her out a little, not to mention the stranger is still trying to get a glimpse at what Chaeyoung had drawn before.

“Sorry, can I help you?”

“I was just curious at what you’re drawing. You seemed so intense earlier on.”

Chaeyoung returns a sceptical look at her. It was just sketching after all, so she didn’t quite understand the stranger’s desire to look at it. She slowly pushes her sketchbook towards her, an eyebrow raised as the stranger eagerly takes it into her hands and flips it to the latest page and grins. Chaeyoung notices a slight silver shining from the edge of her smile and the whites of her teeth balanced out by her gummy smile. She finds her so strange, but also so adorable.

The girl whips her head back, catches Chaeyoung staring and smiles wider.

“It’s nice,” she says as she points to Chaeyoung’s drawing and Chaeyoung glances back at her. “You know what it is?” Cubistic drawings aren’t always easy to comprehend but the stranger catches on, “I don’t,” and Chaeyoung is more confused than ever.

 “I don’t understand it, but that’s why it is nice.” Chaeyoung tilts her head confusedly, and her whole life has been trying to pin something down and now a stranger comes along and tells her that abstractedness of her drawing is what makes it nice…?

“I’m Mina. What’s your name?” Chaeyoung only remembers the white in her teeth flashing again, and she tries to re-focus but the white of her turtleneck kind of blinds her and somehow Chaeyoung finds herself a little short of breath.

\--- 

They take walks along the Han river, and they talk about everything under the sun. She learns that Mina likes to dance, is quite a proficient swimmer and moved over from Japan almost 2 years ago to study here. Everytime they meet she learns a little more about her, and vice versa. But Chaeyoung still imagines a thin film that stands between them (between her heart and mind, too) and she still stands amidst a hazy fog, unable to understand. Sometimes it clears, when Mina’s hand brushes against hers but sometimes when Mina’s clasps her hand over hers her vision implodes into a blinding mess of white. She doesn’t quite understand. It is white and blinding and she desperately wants to see again, yet somehow when she is blinded by that white light, somewhere in the back of her mind she hears her heart beat a little louder and hopes it is a good thing.

Mina takes her on drives during the weekends. She remembers one time in the car she was impelled to reach over Mina’s hand hovering on the gearshift but she was too afraid of the white light that threatened to blind her each time she came a little too close. They’re in a tunnel, amber lights flashing past them overhead as Mina drove them, and Chaeyoung liked to imagine they’re traveling through a time machine, with the orange overhead rushing past them and the dull white walls running past her sides. It was a fluorescent blur as Mina drove on and Chaeyoung’s palm was still slightly shivering from deciding whether to place her hand over Mina’s or not.

It had happened like this. Mina drove up a slight incline that hinted at the exit of the tunnel. She had heard Mina chuckle that small tiny laughter as the DJ made a joke on the radio, but Chaeyoung didn’t understand, hadn’t been listening since her whole body was occupied with the very difficult decision of holding Mina’s hand. Her head was caught between facing the front or turning to watch Mina’s expression had she decided to hold her hand but Chaeyoung ended up looking down, saw her chest heaving slightly and desperately wanted to understand. Her hand had become fatigued from hovering too long and unexpectedly dropped down to Mina’s, and Mina had glanced over to Chaeyoung’s shocked face as Chaeyoung looked up embarrassedly back at Mina’s, praying Mina didn’t find her as strange as Chaeyoung had found Mina to be when they first met. Chaeyoung remembers Mina looking her at her lovingly, the right side of her lips curved up slightly as Mina seemed to have understood, the naïve and innocent child who is Chaeyoung, and had hoped that Chaeyoung could understand it someday, someday soon.

Chaeyoung had hurriedly returned her head to the front and found themselves exiting the tunnel. The white light of their external surroundings had spread over the windscreen and Chaeyoung was blinded again. She remembers gripping Mina’s hand tightly as she tried to re-focus her vision but in the blinding light, like the time machine, she ended up seeing all the times spent together with Mina rush by in her head, amber lights that reminded her of sparks. Her confusion dimmed a little as she vaguely felt Mina shifting her palm slightly so that she caressed Chaeyoung’s palm in return, and Chaeyoung remembers watching the dizzying motion of soothing circles over pale skin.

More white.

White white white. 

It was blindingly white but it was also clear. Chaeyoung’s vision had re-focused and Chaeyoung finally understood.

\--- 

It’s freezing cold but Chaeyoung grabs her bicycle out and cycles towards the Han river even though it will be colder there, the winds intermingled with the rough currents that threaten to send shivers down her back. She pedals hard; white mists huffed out through her mouth. She is tired when she reaches the riverbank, panting, a confusing mix of perspiration and chillness from the cold weather. Her knuckles are stark white from gripping her handles too tightly and she feels her knees are ice cold and aching. Tears stains her cheeks as she tries to catch her breath, she doesn’t understand. She is angry she is hurt but she is also confused. The whole time they were arguing she didn’t even notice her hands balled themselves into fists, stopping blood flow. It hits her when she is alone against the angry breeze and her body is numb with cold but she still hurts, her fists uncurl and red starts to seep through again. She looks at her reflection in her phone but she is white, deathly and salt-stained cheeks only make her look worse. She understands but doesn’t quite so, but she knows she feels like dying.

It’s vastly different from the scratches she has gotten from bicycle falls, feels the hurt seeping past the layers of skin, attacking her heart straight. It is a rawness that aches and cannot be easily gotten rid off and Chaeyoung feels sick. 

Gripping the ice cold handrails, she begins to hear the blood rushing in her ears as she tries to steady herself from the intense workout before, she wants to throw up and she hates this feeling so much she wants to return to the previous state of whiteness she remembers Dahyun vaguely talking about because if this white pierces through her heart then she wants to stop thinking about it all.

It doesn’t take long before she hears hurried footsteps and then a rough hand holding her, turning her body to face away from the river. A blinding white again that makes her dizzy and she turns to face Mina, and realises she has never seen Mina like this, equally panting, but also full of worry and hurt in her eyes. Her fair skin makes the teary eyes stand out and she wants to run away, she’s scared and she doesn’t want to drown in them because somewhere in the back of her head she knows if she drowns in them again, she will keep falling and never stop. She understands somehow but doesn’t know what she should do. Mina pulls her close, whispers “I’m so sorry,” and Chaeyoung sniffles, her body relaxing into her Mina’s. It’s warm, like warm milk that settles deliciously in a mug after being steamed. She just wants Mina to tuck her to sleep and hold her close. She grapples with conflicting emotions, all the messy contradictions of wanting her but not wanting hurt, and finally decides on one that night as Mina pushes her bicycle and sends her home. She looks at Mina strolling along, red blood starting to flow again inside translucent skin and thinks she doesn’t mind falling.

\---

She doesn’t mind, doesn’t mind at all when white is all she sees even when she closes her eyes. It’s an electrifying kind of white that implodes, reminding her of when she first knew, first understood. She feels white shockwaves coursing through her veins as she envisions how Mina looks kissing her inside her head. Eyes closed, but feeling the rough and needy lips against her gives more than enough imagination she needs and she’s shaking from this newfound feeling.

She breaks apart from Mina suddenly, gasping softly, the behinds of her eyes flashing black then white, black, white. She opens her eyes to a blushing Mina who is trying to catch her breath, “sorry, I think I got a little carried away,” but Chaeyoung wants to tell her it’s fine, but can’t find the spaces between each breath to say it, and decides the best way to do so is to rub her thumb affectionately against Mina’s bottom lip, slowly. She watches the way her redness eases out into white when her thumb presses slightly along an area, before returning to its cherry redness. Mina’s lips are moist, and a little swollen but it makes the insides of Chaeyoung’s churn in a good way, so Chaeyoung leans in again and takes away her breath once more. 

The innocent white canvas in her mind is painted with the deep red love of Mina, but Chaeyoung likes to think there’s still that whiteness in her: a renewed, re-envisioned kind of whiteness that reminds her of the warmth under clean sheets as she lies beside Mina. It is a whiteness that has transfigured, transfigures her into understanding, no longer caught inside a hazy mist but a whiteness that can be experienced when one walks out into a clearing, like one driving out of a tunnel into the white light.

She kisses Mina, lets Mina pull her down into the sheets and falls asleep in her embrace, dreaming of gowns and bells and bright light filtering through stained glass windows.


	2. Broken and Beautiful (1/2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> T/W for mentions of self-harm/violence  
> Chaeyoung is a self-made kickboxer and Mina volunteers as her medic

There is no better way to combat sadness and fear with anger, Chaeyoung concludes as she wraps her hands, going smoothly over the rugged edges of her knuckles, the callused gaps between her fingers and over her wrist a couple of times to lower the risk of spraining.

It is not an unruly sort of anger if it is one Chaeyoung has learnt to channel with time and experience. Anger has now become something she can mould on the palm of her hands. She, the potter, anger, the clay – unlike the negative emotion people perceive it to be, anger is an emotion, when moulded with utmost skill, that can be converted into positive energy, kinetic energy even, in the case for Chaeyoung, as she swings her balled fists into sand-filled bags. Anger masks the ache in her knuckles as she completes her reps, alternating between punches and kicks that would send amateurs wincing in pain from the bags’ impact meeting their shins. Not for Chaeyoung, no, because years of training have accustomed her to such force, and how could she wince in pain, if she had chosen to inflict this pain on herself?

(There are, however, still days where anger finds an opening and crawls underneath her skin, makes her bleed over and over again.)

She hears the door clicking in the short moment she switches from her right punch to get into her position for a right roundhouse kick. Finishing the combination with a loud slap to the bag from her right shin, she turns to see a grinning Dahyun, lifting up a bag of takeaways that make Chaeyoung forget the beads of perspiration rolling down and stinging her eyes.

“Right on time,” Chaeyoung says as she takes a box and starts diving into the delicious food in front of her.

“Careful there, wouldn’t want you to be overweight,” Dahyun snorts as Chaeyoung rolls her eyes, putting her spoon down and ready to give Dahyun a taste of her fist, before Dahyun quickly chuckles, “not that you even gain weight anyway… seriously! I’ve never seen anyone have that much difficulty gaining weight just to meet the requirements for a tournament!”

“You’re my manager, shouldn’t you be finding ways to manage me better, then?” Chaeyoung asks, deadpanned. Dahyun tries to laugh it off, taking Chaeyoung’s spoon to scoop up some of the food before shoving it into the girl’s mouth.

Maybe having Dahyun be Chaeyoung’s kickboxing manager wasn’t the most ideal, but Chaeyoung was a self-taught kickboxer, and Dahyun had grown up together with her, had seen Chaeyoung at her lowest and vowed she would never let her go back there again, would do anything to keep Chaeyoung’s head above water and if being Chaeyoung’s crappy manager could accomplish it, Dahyun would more than agree to keep Chaeyoung close, keep Chaeyoung safe.

That aside, being a kickboxing manager wasn’t really that difficult of a job. She had to source for tournaments, ensure Chaeyoung met the requirements (mostly weight-related), let Chaeyoung do her thing in the ring, record her fights for review and improvement and finally find someone qualified to nurse her wounds thereafter or during the fight – that of which was a rather easy job as most tournaments provided an on-site paramedics team to ensure safety as well as efficient response to any emergencies that should occur during the fight.

“How’s your preparation for the showcase coming along?”

“Good, I guess. Messed up a couple of kicks earlier – mistiming I guess, and it feels like my stamina has dropped,” Chaeyoung replies, sounding a little discouraged.

“Don’t be too hard on yourself, it’s just a showcase to show the freshmen what the mixed martial arts team offer in our university. Don’t get yourself all cut up before the more important matches coming up in a few months’ time.”

“Got it, mother,” and Dahyun shuts her up with a fistful of food into Chaeyoung mouth, chortling as she takes in the huge bite.

 

 

“I don’t get it, but why?”

“Why, what?”

“Why do I have to be on some stand-by duty at a fighting showcase?”

“Because people may get hurt, duh.”

Sana pulls her head back slightly as she looks at Mina, wondering how one of the top few medicine students in the school is unable to comprehend the need for an emergency team at such an event.

“They asked for it, didn’t they? Randomly getting into fights and then getting hurt?”

Sana gasps dramatically, throwing her right palm over her mouth for added effect, “Mina, MMA is a sport! It requires skill and rigorous training! And you’re studying to be a doctor, you’re supposed to attend to anyone regardless of how they sustain their injuries! Besides, it’s good experience to learn how to react in emergency situations like these.”

Mina sighs, ruffling the back of her hair in frustration, mumbling how it’s a waste of time and she would rather spend it on revising for her orthopaedics test that’s coming up soon.

“God Mina, if you haven’t realised, the entire event is your ortho- whatever revision in motion.”

 “How you even understood that concept without even pronouncing the word right is a mystery to me,” Mina answers Sana curiously.

 

 

“How are you?”

“I’ve been worse,” Chaeyoung quips and the man in the white robe, sitting in the centre of the spotless room that reeks of disinfectant, looks up and smiles.

“I will be taking that as progress.”

Chaeyoung is relieved. It hadn’t been easy – going for psychiatric visits after Dahyun had found out and trying to battle between the stigma of the place and its patients and the dire need to sort herself out, with the support of Dahyun. The doctor fed her with different kinds and doses of anti-depressants and as the months went by, Chaeyoung relied heavily on them to combat the itch to hurt herself – to watch blood flow out, to feel the raw pain that comes after an episode of violence she effected on herself. Yet the taste of bitter pills and chugging them down as they rolled uncomfortably down her oesophagus reminded her that this, too, wasn’t the way to live – to be a slave to such drugs that only restricted her from acting up, but did not resolve it entirely.

In her sober state, Chaeyoung knew.

She had to do this alone. She had to do this on her own.

The power to kill is the power to live and that meant power didn’t lie within the walls of psychiatric hospitals, but in the palm of Chaeyoung’s own bruised hands.

“At least, or maybe, you could take up MMA, you know. It’s a legalised sport and a legalised way to hurt yourself.”

Chaeyoung tilts her head in curiosity, though it has definitely piqued her interest, she wonders why Dahyun would let her risk hurting herself again after going through so much trouble to stop it.

“Pay attention to my diction, idiot, I said that it’s legalised – I can watch over you when you train in the gym and there’re always people to turn to should any injuries occur during a fight. This won’t be happening behind the suffocating lonely four walls of your room, Son Chaeyoung.”

Chaeyoung grins, as she finds a gym to train at, spending her time looking at renowned fighters and their techniques in tackling opponents and various ways to condition her body and build stamina.

 

 

The referee signals and the electronic bell sounds. Chaeyoung shuffles her feet to warm up but also to confuse her opponent. Students begin to gather around the ring as they watch the fight unfold, many of them witnessing such a scene for the first time. It’ll be a fast one, Chaeyoung thinks, since her part for showcase is only to fight for one round.

Mina leans against the wall, slightly bored by the fight which is progressing slowly, still unable to make sense of this sport, but somehow her eyes can’t tear away from the ring and the fighter who looks too small for her weight class.

Chaeyoung keeps her fighting stance as she looks at her opponent from the neighbouring university, going round and round in an attempt to dizzy her. Chaeyoung remains firm and when her opponent steps forward with a simple jab-cross combination, Chaeyoung quickly leans back to prevent being hit, before returning a quick punch to her face. Her opponent stumbles back at the force and Chaeyoung uses this opportunity to move up and throw a kick to her side and she jerks to the right harshly while Chaeyoung waits for her to regain composure. She can hear Dahyun cheering at the back and has to hold back her laughter from hearing her boisterous best friend rooting for her. This moment of distraction allows the opponent to push kick Chaeyoung’s stomach and Chaeyoung takes a large step back to absorb the force of the kick. The opponent’s eyes are burning with rivalry and before Chaeyoung can execute another combination, her opponent surges forward, throwing countless punches and hooks to Chaeyoung’s face. Chaeyoung blocks most of them, but the rashness of her opponent still allows some of the hits to land on her face and she can feel warmth trickling down her cheekbone as she assumes a cut has been formed after one of the hard hits by her opponent. She parries one of the last few punches by her opponent, sensing fatigue in the other as the punches slow down, throws a jab then a cross then an uppercut to her face in return and when the opponent stumbles back from Chaeyoung’s power, Chaeyoung uses this opportunity to execute a perfect double roundhouse kick that sends the opponent flying backwards.

The bell timely sounds and the referee sends them to the corners of the ring to let the paramedics clean and medicate their wounds. The ring has gathered a significant amount of students who watch on enthusiastically. The opening fight has indeed been an eye-opening showcase, and Dahyun can see students swarming to the sign up table during the fight in an attempt to know about and learn a new sport, even hearing a “I hope to get to know our school’s cute fighter a little better,” as the students walk past her to the booth.

Mina walks over to Chaeyoung’s side as her partner goes over to the opposing team’s and Chaeyoung just closes her eye when Mina glances around for a hint at what she’s supposed to do next. Dahyun is removing her gloves speedily and when she notices Mina’s awkward stance, she prompts her, “new here? Just clean up her wounds, which aren’t much, and you’re good to go.”

Chaeyoung opens her eyes at the comment and looks at a very inexperienced Mina fiddling with her fingers and first aid kit. She’s had a good fight, so she’s not going to chastise Mina’s supposed incompetence. “Hey, it’s ok, maybe you want to begin with the cut on my face?” She giggles and Mina exhales a little, relieved, and suddenly is able to carry out her duties of a paramedic skilfully.

She wipes her wound with an antiseptic and Chaeyoung winces a little, and Mina wonders how she took all those hits earlier on, especially with her size. Determination and motivation are indeed powerful tools of survival, Mina reasons. She presses on the wound to stop bleeding and then moves on to spray anagelsic on Chaeyoung’s shins which have taken some painful tackles as well as have blocked several painful kicks.

“All done, I suppose,” Mina mumbles and Chaeyoung throws a lop-sided grin at her, putting her palm on her shoulder as reassurance. “Thank you…” she says as she looks at Mina’s nametag on her uniform,

“Thank you, Mina.”

 

 

“You up for dinner later?”

“Nah, busy,”

“With what? Your whatever test is over right?”

“Yeah, but I signed up to be on stand by for a fight today.”

“You what?”

“You heard me.”

Sana shoots Mina an incredulous look, eyes wide and jaws hanging open. She walks towards Mina and grasps her shoulders, shaking them slightly as she states dramatically, “but why?” – a clever turnaround to Mina’s phrase that was asked a few days ago.

“There’s no wh-”

“O-Oh, OH…” Sana quickly chimes in, raising an eyebrow as she playfully grins, “there must be a gir-”

“NO Sana!” But Sana doesn’t miss the red colouring her face, gives Mina the benefit of doubt and pinches her cheeks, to which Mina pouts a little too cutely.

“Then at least let me come with you, you know, for quality control purposes.”

 

 

“It’s you again,” Mina tries to hide her smile but ends up beaming as she brushes the slick hair from Chaeyoung’s face, getting a closer look at the new cuts formed on her temple and left eyebrow. The previous cut seemed to be healing well and showed little signs of scarring and Mina began to medicate the fighter’s wounds.

Chaeyoung had sat down after the bell had rung, signalling the end of the second round. There’s a short break for Mina to clean her up and Dahyun to provide any words of advice, mostly leaving Chaeyoung chortling out of Dahyun’s faux coach stance, all firm and tough, before stumbling on her observations and leaving both Mina and Chaeyoung chuckling. Yet Chaeyoung understood her sincere heart and smiled gently, a wordless assurance to put Dahyun’s advice from the first round into action for the next round.

It’s a short break so before Mina knows it, Chaeyoung is back in the centre of the ring, cleaned up and ready to fight again. Her opponent looks unfortunately bigger than her and hopes that the fight will be a good one – a good one in Chaeyoung’s (her school’s, she means) favour.

She watches from the peripheries of the ring, deciding to stand beside Dahyun for good measure (not too sure what that is, too, considering Chaeyoung’s teasing attitude to Dahyun, which seems a little ill-fitting of a fighter to her coach).

It’s been a fair fight so far, with both sides throwing equal punches and Mina can’t help to swoon over Chaeyoung’s dexterity, alternating between accurate punches and quick parries that allow a clean diversion from her opponents strong hits. Chaeyoung, due to her small stature, has to step nearer to throw better punches and this decrease in proximity has her opponent towering over her. Mina bites her lips in slight apprehension as she watches on – Chaeyoung manages to dodge a right hook to her cheek but this distracts her from her opponent’s left punch which sends her stumbling back, and at this moment of disarray her opponent throws a hard right kick to her side that causes Chaeyoung to fall back.

A gasp unknowingly escapes Mina’s lips as she sees Chaeyoung on the ground but there’s a glint in Chaeyoung’s eyes that worries but also appeases Mina. She hears a small “don’t worry, she’ll be up before you know it” beside her and Dahyun has her arms folded, eyes straight and certain. Mina has no idea how Dahyun can be so positive when Chaeyoung just endured heavy blows to her body but before she can continue thinking, Chaeyoung grunts and pushes herself up again, shuffling her feet and ready to fight again – as if the blows did not happen to her at all. It makes Mina’s heart swell a little, a lot, and she gains a newfound respect for the sport, and the tiny fighter.

Chaeyoung gets back up stronger and tougher – and Mina starts to understand the glint in her eyes as an unwavering passion for the sport, despite its ups and downs. It’s the persistence to continue even when you’ve been beaten down and knowing that the pain is only temporary, and it is your willpower to win the pain that lasts forever.

Chaeyoung doesn’t throw hasty punches or kicks, Mina realises. The fire in her eyes does not convert into a series of mistimed hits that exhibit a poor control over one’s strength, which she notices in her opponent. Chaeyoung, on the other hand, executes her combination in a measured pace, as if every throw she makes is a calculated move intended to slowly but surely crush her opponent.

She rings around the opponent carefully, hands blocking her face as she prepares her move. Mina catches a glimpse of Chaeyoung’s intense look as she circles about her opponent – chin down, eyebrows a little creased and sharp nose well-defined – and feels a strange squeezing in her heart that she can’t put a finger to. She ignores it as Chaeyoung begins her attack: a string of deft hits to her face, chest and stomach, ending with a spectacular head kick that sends her opponent flying back and the crowds into rambunctious cheers. The winner is clear, and once the opponent gets back on her feet and both are standing beside the referee, the referee takes the opportunity to quieten down the crowds before determinedly raising Chaeyoung’s hand up – the victor for this match.

Chaeyoung bows in gratitude and reaches over to her opponent to thank her for a good fight. She returns to Dahyun who wipes her perspiration off and begins taking off her gloves.

“Sorry, you know how I can only hug you after you smell less gross. But congratulations!” Dahyun quips and Chaeyoung tries to hug her, playfully offended. Mina stands awkwardly by, before clearing her throat, saying, “hey, congratulations.”

Chaeyoung turns around and flashes a toothy smile at her, “thank you, Mina,” and Mina silently concludes that it’s starting to become her favourite phrase to hear.

Mina reaches over and helps Chaeyoung with her wounds. She presses against all the open cuts to prevent further bleeding again, her face too close to Chaeyoung’s but Chaeyoung has her eyes closed and that makes Mina a lot less nervous. As she breathes in deeply to steady herself, she makes a mistake of looking at the way Chaeyoung’s eyelashes flutter a little from the breeze she makes and has to swallow hard to get a grip. She moves away and notices that a deep purple bruise had begun to form on the sides of Chaeyoung’s ribs after that hard kick and that it had spread down below her sports bra. She takes an ice compress and puts it firmly against her sides, to allow the swelling to subside. Chaeyoung slightly flinches from the cold but is soothed by the way her bruise doesn’t hurt as much as before.

Chaeyoung peeks open one eye and sees Dahyun chatting up with a strange girl by the corner and rolls her eyes, what kind of manager is she… before she sees Mina diligently attending to her wounds and feels grateful. She’s never seen any paramedic this meticulous, usually they did it too abrasively, as if fighters who are too used to pain would accept their effortless attempts to nurse her wounds. Not that she minded, of course, but Mina’s attention to her wounds was a pleasant surprise to her. No wonder her previous wounds healed much quicker than before.

“Hey, Mina.”

“Hmm?”

“It’s late but… would you, perhaps, like to grab uhm, a late dinner with me later?”

-TBC-


	3. Broken and Beautiful (2/2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> part 2: this part is where most of the TWs apply, so do take precaution for those who are sensitive to such content.
> 
> ps. as i was reading it to check for mistakes, i realised how i inadvertently used my friend's experience to pen this story. to the girl who was broken by someone she loved, and cut herself from the pain - i hope you're doing ok, im always here.

Things seem to be going well between the newfound friends, who have taken more than a liking to each other, regularly meeting up and getting to know each other better. Tournaments do not begin until next year so Chaeyoung has time to recuperate and review her performance this year.

There are days when Chaeyoung walks down cold streets lit up by fluorescent lamps, passing dilapidated buildings and broken brick walls, playing mindlessly with her fingers, not thinking too much but still aware she’s thinking about something in particular. She vaguely feels her fingers through the wool of her gloves and they’re numb but she is still able to move and trace out the shape of her fingers on either hands. She fits the fingers on her right into the spaces on her left, feels comfort at the completeness of clasped hands, wonders if Mina’s hands fit nicely over hers. It is a thought that comes naturally these days, a thought she is unable to shut out because of the way Mina treats her like treasure – chest-enclosed, only for her, (with) the key, to open and protect with all her heart. It is a thought Chaeyoung tends to lose herself in, because Mina is beautiful inside out and everyone wants to be loved by someone who shows you everyday you’re worth loving. She holds onto herself tighter, and looks down at it, her hands now resembling those in prayer, prays she is worth it.

Everyone wants to be loved.

Even those who think they’re worthless.

 

And so it also becomes a thought that eats her up when she is alone at night, gnawing at the back of her head. It is a thought that festers into an open wound that is prone to infections – and open wounds remind her of bloodied knuckles and brokenness. She wonders too much at night about Mina who is heaven-sent, perfect and wholesome and how she is always there during and after every fight to nurse all her wounds, she looks at her body full of scars and realises she needs so much more saving. There is only so much Mina can do before she becomes tired. Mina’s fingers will always fill the gaps of Chaeyoung’s, but that merely reiterates how empty she is, how little she can offer to Mina’s perfect soul and that crushes Chaeyoung further.

The wound opens up into an itch she can’t satiate until she sees blood in her own hands.

Her knuckles still ache from the consecutive fights she’s had, and her body is still sore from bruises but it is an itch that claws at her chest and she feels anger crawling in again, bubbling and rising from the depths of her darkened soul and she is too tired to control it, wants to let it take over her because sadness is a terrible thing. Sadness makes her cry and sadness makes her chest ache and she just wants the thought in her head to go away.

She reaches into her bedside drawer and pulls out a penknife. Gripping it firmly, the soreness in her hands elevated now, she clenches her teeth to push aside all terrifying thoughts of tears and inadequacy and drags her hand across her thigh. Crimson begins to spill and it makes Chaeyoung hear her own breathing steady again. It’s a kind of lightness that will not last, this she knows, but it will do for now. In the ember glow of her bedside lamp, the red on her thighs look menacingly fresh, and as it rolls down her side, Chaeyoung is hyper-aware of the subtle pain in the broken skin, the tiny drop gliding over the inside of her thigh, before resting at a spot and beginning to dry up. It distracts Chaeyoung from more monstrous thoughts, and Chaeyoung goes to sleep after, a little more restful that night.

 

Anger moulds itself, when Chaeyoung’s hands lay limp against her side, into an jagged ball of sorts that cut as it rolls and plays on her skin, pricking around until it reaches her left chest of an abyss, twists itself into the heart where it should hurt the most and tears start to seep out of her eyes, but she still remains motionless.

“Why aren’t you good enough?”

“We didn’t bring you up for you to just be mediocre, Son Chaeyoung.”

Her name rolls off his tongue like bitter medicine, like she wasn’t befitting of the said surname, and it makes her skin crawl because here she is, Son Chaeyoung in its physical form, but inside squirming to be somebody else.

Somebody she can call her own.

Even after trying so hard to fulfil her parents’ wishes to enter the university of their choice, major of their choice, they still dismissed her efforts, constantly questioning her subpar grades (which weren’t perfect, but definitely not substandard), and this had been going on since high school. Going home didn’t mean warmth and encouragement – the open arms for embracing and a round table for casual bonding over home cooked meals. Going back to the Sons’ house meant an incessant interrogation of her inability to be perfect, her presumed laziness and a reiteration of how she would never be part of the family of successful, accomplished individuals.

Tolerance could only do so much, and Chaeyoung soon found herself shrinking into stoicism – not fighting back, staying tight-lipped because somewhere along the way she realised her words didn’t matter, they never did, and a silent resignation to her unjust fate sufficed for her.

 

But injustice is a frightening thing – it morphs into an anger that coils around the circumference of her neck and tightens so hard Chaeyoung can’t breathe. Balling her fists up, she suddenly sits up straight, shaking with the thought of her cruel lot at life. She swings her balled fists at the pristine wall in her room – the wall doesn’t break, for sure, but it is a refreshing kind of pain that releases her from whatever resentment she has shoved and kept down in her heart. She doesn’t know how long she has been doing this until the walls bear scarlet prints and she looks at her bloodied knuckles. Huffing as she returns to sit on her bed, she starts to feel ache seep into her, the nociceptors finally able to send out signals of pain to the rest of her body, and while the pain doesn’t quell the one in her heart, Chaeyoung having found an outlet is an accomplishment in itself for her – for it is when she draws out blood on her own that she feels at ease again, although for awhile.

At school, Dahyun tries to ignore the apparent bruises scaling Chaeyoung’s hand, the scabbing at some areas hinting that skin was broken as well. She tries to reason that perhaps Chaeyoung had hurt herself by accident – burning herself while cooking, or trying to break her fall – but they all simply do not add up. These wounds do not arise out of falls, nor mere cooking burns.

They look deliberate, and that is what scares Dahyun the most.

Dahyun ignores until it happens again, which doesn’t take long. A few days later she notices the wounds are re-opened, the blood looks fresher – like it had only happened a few hours before school started. Dahyun’s heart races with fear and worry, eyes flitting from the front as they walked to their classroom to her side where Chaeyoung walks quietly, wondering when she should bring up this topic. But her mouth renders no words – all that comes out are useless exhales and the imminent helplessness should the truth that Chaeyoung was indeed harming herself be admitted.

She pulls Chaeyoung to a secluded staircase after school, anxious and shivering. Sure, she had always known about Chaeyoung’s parents. Chaeyoung used to casually mention that uptight and pressurising nature and how she couldn’t meet those standards but Dahyun would encourage her, pull off a slapstick joke and Chaeyoung would be well again. Dahyun had also seen how overbearing her parents were when she dropped by Chaeyoung’s house and her parents would constantly ask Dahyun if Chaeyoung was slacking off for her to produce such lacklustre grades. Dahyun could only wring her fingers in discomfort and try to reassure them that Chaeyoung was trying her best and was already the top few in the class. Yet it had never once occurred to her that she would have to ask her best friend if she was harming herself from this unceasing emotional abuse. How much had Chaeyoung endured for her to resort to self-harm?

“What’s going on, Chaeng?” Dahyun tries to be firm but she chokes on her tears as she remembers the wounds on her best friend’s hands.

“What? Dub, you ok?” Chaeyoung asks, confused.

She exhales loudly, nostrils flaring as she grabs Chaeyoung’s arms harshly and lifts them up – her wounds in clear view for both of them to see.

“This, Chaeng.”

Chaeyoung flings Dahyun’s arms away, only for Dahyun to grip onto them, only tighter now, “tell me, Chaeng,” and her voice sounds pleading, almost on the brink of desperation.

“It’s just… it feels better… inside, you know, when I do this… like it doesn’t hurt anymore, just for a little while… like I can breathe again…”

A tear rolls down Dahyun’s cheeks, and she pulls Chaeyoung in for a hug, “I’m so sorry… I wish I had known sooner.”

“You weren’t supposed to,” Chaeyoung replies, and while it may have sounded curt to others, Dahyun picks up the small edge of guilt in it. Chaeyoung tries to be strong for others, always, but at the expense of herself.

“This is not right, we have to do something about it,” and maybe it is the worry glistening in Dahyun’s eyes or Chaeyoung’s inability to push her best friend away and tell her that it’s none of her business, or that deep down Chaeyoung knows she needs help and Dahyun is her only way out, that Chaeyoung meekly nods and lets Dahyun take her hand in hers.

 

3 years in, and Chaeyoung sometimes still doesn’t like looking at her scars on her once immaculate skin, but evading throws and kicks and countering with those of her own in a ring where she has learnt to turn anger into effective combative energy and motivation has her not looking back at all.

Kickboxing scars may not outweigh the scars she first inflicted on herself, nor the scars her parents knifed into her heart – but they are nonetheless scars that reminded her that she is in control of her body and she’s slowly but surely on the road to recovery.

 

Chaeyoung wakes up, body sorer than before. Delayed onset muscle soreness, they call it, and she’s used to the pain her sport brings, but she knows her body is sore also from the tension she put it through yesterdays. It is small episodes like yesterday’s that makes Chaeyoung remember how easily she breaks – that it has never been a win-win for her. She gets hurt, and then she hurts. It’s a vicious cycle that keeps her inflicting pain on herself because if the pain doesn’t stop then how can she?

She, though, is slightly disgusted with her for resorting to doing that yesterday. She has more or less gained control over herself over the years, so a reckless episode like yesterday’s must have been out of complete desperation. Chaeyoung wonders why it affects her so much. She really, really wishes it wouldn’t.

But what’s done is done and she’s been used to the idea of scars for a long time now, so brushes it off as an episode to chuck in the back of her head. Resolute, but Chaeyoung notices it wavers, she tries to begin the day anew.

 

She’s huddled up in Mina’s tiny sofa, and glances around the apartment as Mina fusses about in the kitchen. It’s minimalist with its white tiles, white walls and steel plates that join together to form a simple bookcase on the wall. The house is in mint condition and Chaeyoung gets that it must be Mina’s organised and conscientious nature that allows her entire apartment to be so well-kept. It’s also very small, but still functional, very fitting for one person and Chaeyoung feels like she’s crowding the space. She thinks too little of herself, like a blemish in the immaculate spaces of Mina’s apartment and grows tense at that thought. She can feel it fester again, threatening to implode and causing her to be a permanent stain in Mina’s apartment, Mina’s life.

She tries to swallow it down when Mina returns with hot chocolate in both hands, places them on the small table and leans into Chaeyoung, wrapping a blanket over both of them.

Flicking through the television channels with disinterest, Mina stops at a random movie playing and curls her palm over Chaeyoung’s wrist, rubbing the skin where her thumb and wrist meet. She has always swooned, secretly, over her veiny arms that extend to her wrist. Her fit body is something to swoon over, without a doubt, but whenever she lightly presses against the veins along Chaeyoung’s wrist, her chest tightens because she feels so close to Chaeyoung – like she is privy to Chaeyoung’s soul, akin to lying against her chest at night when Chaeyoung sleeps over. It’s a feeling she doesn’t want to forget: hearing the thumping of her heart and imagining the flow within her veins take her out from the monotony of her life enclosed in hyper-sanitary rooms filled with the smell of disinfectant – being close to Chaeyoung makes her feel safe, alive.

As she slowly drifts off, the blanket slips from her and she is stirred to wakefulness. Her movement also causes Chaeyoung to sleepily blink her eyes open. Mina takes her time to gaze at her, head tilted as she watches the soft light of the streets outside play on the slants of Chaeyoung’s jaw and cheekbones. Chaeyoung yawns and a smile stretches across Mina’s face as she reaches out to cover her mouth before Chaeyoung softly whines.

Mina turns her hand out to hold Chaeyoung’s face in the curve of her palm, feels the smallness of Chaeyoung’s face as she leans into Mina’s palm. It’s smooth and warm and Mina leans in to feel Chaeyoung’s breath on hers.

It’s a staggered kind of breathing as she watches Chaeyoung shut her lips, her nose exhaling quickly. It makes Mina giggle and she looks down to close the distance –

And she notices her thighs. Horizontal lines a deep maroon scab – highly likely to scar over once it peels. It’s not the scarring Mina is worried about but the cuts.

The lines don’t look like fight wounds.

“Chaeyoung.”

“Hmm?”

“What are those cuts on your thighs?”

Chaeyoung is startled and immediately pulls away from Mina’s hold, as if she has just burnt herself and there is a distant look in her eyes that wants Mina to stay away, to stop now before she destroys everything.

She’s still sober enough to maintain civility in her voice and calmly brushes it off as a result from a fight.

“You and I know they are not so stop lying to me.”

Mina sounds too firm, too overbearing that she suddenly reminds her of all the first time she visited a psychiatrist and his overloading questions – eager to diagnose her with a mental disorder, eager to label her, eager to feed her with expensive medication that would supposedly fix her life. She sounds like him when he wants the truth, because it is always good to accumulate and record data – a name on his list. She sounds like she wants an answer, they all do, but everything is a mess and everything is pain when it comes.

Her hands are too small to save herself.

 

Mina tries to give Chaeyoung the space she needs when the door to her house lays ajar, after being slammed and bouncing open again. She reasons Chaeyoung may need time before she can open herself up to her but it worries her, and time feels so long when she sits in a tiny sofa that feels much too big now.

She waits, and waits, and waits.

She wants to hear the other’s heartbeat and be lulled to sleep. She wants this to just be a nightmare. But it’s not because Chaeyoung screams at her to mind her own business, and Mina’s heart tears into pieces. Chaeyoung’s heart is not hers to own – she doesn’t even know her heart at all, how can she claim it to be hers?

The ticking of the clock drills itself into her head and she looks at the opened door, takes it as a sign as she puts on her coat and goes out in search for her.

She goes straight to Chaeyoung’s apartment and knocks on it anxiously, feet tapping in uneven beats as she waits for an answer. She presses her ear against the door and hears the sterile air moving in the room. Chaeyoung’s not in there.

Her breathing turns ragged as she wonders where else could Chaeyoung be. Her mind is clouded with worry and she is unable to fathom the next possible place. She stills herself, slowly regulating her breaths.

The gym.

 

It’s in the wee hours of the night, and the complex is eerily quiet. She finds the door of the gym unlocked and prays her guess is true. She opens it quietly and finds Chaeyoung kicking the bag rapidly, her back facing her. She goes over slowly, restraining herself from running and holding her close at the thought of Chaeyoung being safe and in her arms again.

Chaeyoung finishes her reps in quick succession and she finally stops, hunched over and palms grasping her knees.

“Chaeng…” Chaeyoung back rises and fall from her laboured breathing but Mina catches the pause in her breath as Chaeyoung swings around to find Mina there, worried and anxious.

“Mina…” and Mina steps forward but Chaeyoung suddenly puts a palm out, stopping her in her tracks,  “don’t come any nearer, please.”

“I don’t need to know now if you’re not ready, but just let me– ”

“No, Mina, I don’t want your pity. You doctors need to stop labelling me.”

“Do you really think I see you as a patient? After all this time?”

“All you do is help me – you nurse my wounds, you help me recover from a fight. So stop, please stop wanting to help me. I-I can’t do anything for you. I will always be this: a fighter who will always get hurt, a child who never forgets the despondent faces of her parents, a girl who will never have full control of her hands. Mina… I will screw you up.”

They hold their gazes, Chaeyoung furrowed eyebrows and withdrawn eyes into Mina’s concerned ones. Chaeyoung feels the weight of her imperfection sink in her and the ache converts to a pain that shoots through her heart. Tears surface at the corner of her eyes as she turns to look away from Mina. Anger has dissipated now, and sadness only lingers – a sadness that makes pain hard to endure, hands too weak to enact anger and crush the heavy feeling of being a pathetic being in the world.

“I want you,”

Mina sees Chaeyoung’s head rise a little from its drooped position earlier,

“I want you, in spite of.”

Chaeyoung doesn’t reply and Mina steps a little closer.

 “I’ll want you, always.”

Mina is not close enough to see the tears running down her cheeks as Chaeyoung bites her lips in an attempt to not sob, but Mina hears sniffling. She knows she has to wait, and Chaeyoung still has walls around her. So Mina waits, Mina reassures.

“I love you, Chaeyoung.”

She reaches to turn Chaeyoung by her shoulders, and Chaeyoung is stiff – tensed shoulders, head lowered, chest hitching as she sniffles.

She waits.

She gently lifts Chaeyoung’s chin up to face her, and a lone tear rolls down her own face. She doesn’t know exactly what had happened to Chaeyoung, but Chaeyoung is so, so beautiful nonetheless and Mina only wants the best for her. She pulls Chaeyoung to the bench where she sits her down and begins to unravel her hand wraps, before brushing the hair against Chaeyoung’s face away. She takes a towel and carefully dries her up, her face down to her neck, her shoulders, abs and lower limbs. She sprays analgesic on her arms and legs to reduce soreness and rubs out existing bruises. Chaeyoung remains entirely silent during the process, obediently letting Mina clean her up, until Mina reaches the scars on her thighs and looks back up at her. Chaeyoung looks away.

“I love you, scars and all.”

Mina traces over the scabbed cuts tenderly as she fixes her gaze on Chaeyoung, her other hand gently pulling Chaeyoung back to face her. She leans in and presses a kiss against the cut and Chaeyoung can’t help but grip the edge of the bench tightly, a breath catching in her throat.

Mina stands up, leans over to the scars on her forehead and eyebrow from old fights, traces over them again lightly and kisses them firmly, like she has seen them and she’s not running away.

Mina doesn’t help her, Mina does everything she does because she loves Chaeyoung, and the realisation itself makes Chaeyoung start to cry. It’s as if she has never been loved before and what Mina does now opens her to a garden that blooms in her chest, roots watered well to sprout into scented colourful flowers. It is a beautiful garden that grows despite the barren and broken chest of Chaeyoung’s and she feels her heart surge because Mina is here, and Mina loves her, in spite of her scars, with her scars, for her scars.

Chaeyoung rubs her tears away and blinks her eyes to look clearly at Mina, who looks at her adoring eyes, as if Chaeyoung is precious china. No one has ever looked at her like that before. Chaeyoung pulls Mina into her embrace, noses into the place where her collarbones and shoulders meet.

She’s here, she’s here, she’s here.

Mina holds her back tightly, before pulling away and gazing longingly into Chaeyoung’s eyes, leaning in to press a kiss on her lips. She removes herself after the firm peck, and Chaeyoung looks far too long on her lips. Mina leans in again, slowly, and Chaeyoung meets her halfway – her lips shyly pecking Mina’s repeatedly, until Mina pulls her close and closes over her lips, moving and guiding Chaeyoung. She feels Chaeyoung wrap her arms around her shoulders and she puts her other hand around her waist, kissing and kissing, sharing breaths because Mina wants Chaeyoung to know she’s here – Chaeyoung can have all of her.

 

They walk home together, hands clasped. Chaeyoung lifts their entwined hands up and looks pensively.

“Yes???” Mina whispers.

In a moment of honesty, Chaeyoung responds, “I’ve always thought I wasn’t good enough, and definitely not good enough for you and you, like your fingers, would always have to fill the emptiness in my fingers, in my life.”

Mina grips their clasped hands tighter, pauses and Chaeyoung softly jerks to a halt to face Mina.

“But it’s the same with me. You came into my life and filled these spaces that I didn’t think anyone would. You don’t need to be perfect to be with someone, you just be with them. And I want to be with you.”

“Me too.”

They resume walking, swinging their joined hands, timid smiles on their faces. Chaeyoung used to think there was no better way to combat sadness and fear with anger and it was true, to a certain extent, but with Mina’s hands in hers and a blooming garden in her chest, Chaeyoung decides on a new belief that night:

There is no better way to combat sadness and fear with love.

“Hey.”

“Hmm?” Mina hums as she looks over to Chaeyoung beside her.

“Thank you, Mina.”

 

-FINIS-


End file.
